


Kyler's Lucid Wet Dream

by KylerFey



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Terminator (Movies), The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner, seaQuest
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Alternate Universe - Terminator Fusion, Anal Sex, Big Cocks, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, SeaQuest alternate universe, lots of semen, references to fictional violence, references to rape but no actual rape happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 06:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19079596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylerFey/pseuds/KylerFey
Summary: The author has a bizarre (and lusty) adventure in an alternate universe with Wesley Crusher, Lucas Wolenczakand John Connor.





	Kyler's Lucid Wet Dream

**Kyler Has a Lucid Wet Dream**

 

**But it begins like a nightmare in a police station in Yoknapatawpha County…**

“Your boy here…” the cop said, checking notes, “this Kyler Fey kid, raped a boy named John Connor. We have it from that kid’s parents and a couple other witnesses. So there’s not a lot else we can do, you see?” The cop is not old, but he slumps with the weariness of someone decades older. He sweats through his shirt. It’s July and very hot in the station’s little interrogation room. A ceiling fan barely turns overhead.

Kyler looks at his lawyer, a young public defender sent over from the county court house and who’d spent maybe three minutes reviewing his case, to say something in his defense. But she just frowns at him and shrugs. Then, after a few moments, she says, “Well, he _is_ still a minor.” Kyler feels something sink in his gut: she isn’t going to even try to do anything for him.

“Don’t matter,” says the cop, lights a cigarette. “He’s not _that_ much of a minor. What he did gets treated same as if he was an adult. You know that.”

Kyler, trying to keep his voice even, strong, says, “Look. I did not _rape_ him. I totally admit I _fucked_ him but I did not rape him. He wanted it. We _both_ did.”

The cop shrugs, sucks down smoke. “Doesn’t matter. Queer fucking is a crime in this county. A boy can’t fuck another boy and have it be anything other than illegal faggot rape.” He frowns at the lawyer, blows smoke at Kyler. And Kyler wishes he could have a cigarette. “You know that, counselor. Nothing else to be done about it now.”

“Well,” she says, “can’t you just have him castrated like you did with Benjy Compson?” Kyler gapes at her, stunned, imagines his nuts being cut loose from their sack, maybe with a jackknife from the cop’s pants pocket.

“That was a _girl_ that he raped. This is different. Raping a girl ain’t a death penalty crime, and that Compson kid’s a retard besides. This whole situation is totally different.” He shook his head slowly. “And you know that.”

 

**The gas machine…**

The cops cuff Kyler’s legs and arms to the legs and arms of the heavy iron chair, and he pisses his pants, a dark ooze of urine soaking through his jeans, overflowing the denim and trickling onto the seat beneath him. The boys screams and sobs are muffled when they fit the stiff leather mask over his face and mouth and strap it tightly around the back of his head. No last meal, no last words, no chance for appeal was offered: the sixteen-year-old queer boy was taken directly from the meeting from the public defender into a cinder block-walled jail cell that doubled as a death chamber, his short life sentenced to end for the crime of fucking another boy. Before the mask is put on, blotting out his vision, Kyler sees the device of his death. It’s a fat dark green canister that sits in a heavy metal rack, its surface adorned with dials and gauges and giant buttons, its top crowned with rust. Black hoses snake from it, coiled like gigantic phone cords, each terminating in its own death mask. It’s possible, Kyler thinks, to kill ten guys at once if they want to. He can’t see what happens next, but it sounds like a heavy switch is flipped and the metallic chugging of an air compressor commences. He imagines one of the cops turning a heavy mold-glazed dial on the front the device and a loud hiss emits from a tank inside it. Gas flows through the tube linking that tank to Kyler’s mouth and nose. The boy tries not to inhale, but it’s impossible to resist the lung-invasion of the poison. In about five minutes, he is dead.

 

**I don’t know how you got here!…**

“What the fuck dude!” said a loud voice somewhere behind me over me or maybe underneath me. My head felt hollow, like it had opened up and spilled out into a huge cave, and I couldn’t see anything. “Did you piss your fucking pants, Kyler? Do you _always_ wet the bed?” I finished waking up and saw where I was: on a bunk in a cabin on Lucas’s submarine.

“Is this a dream?” I said. “Or was _that_ a dream? Where I was?” I considered it for a second. “You pulled me out of there somehow. Before…before.”

“Last I saw you was a couple hours ago and you were right here sleeping. I don't know _how_ you got here though. Pulled you out of where?”

“Out of Yoknapatawpha County! In jail! They somehow caught me fucking John Connor and then they arrested me and took me to jail. And they executed me with some kind of gas!” I kind of started crying again but it turned into laughing probably because I was so fucking happy to out of that place.

 _“Executed_ you!” Lucas took my face in his hands and peered into my eyes like he was looking for signs of drugs. “Executed you. For what!”

“For being a queer! For fucking another boy!” And I cry-laughed some more.

Lucas said, “You probably snapped back here somehow when you died there. Like on a rubber band through time. I didn’t even know where the fuck you and John were. You’ve been missing since yesterday. I thought maybe Wes had taken you back up to the _Enterprise_ for some reason but we have been running under radio silence and I haven’t been able to call him.”

“Since _yesterday?_ John Connor and I were in Yoknapatawpha for _weeks,_ dude! There were these freaky-deaky old people there who thought they were John’s parents. Their whole house was like a church, and we were sleeping behind it in their carriage house. That’s where they caught us fucking, and then they called the cops and had me taken away. I don’t know what happened to John.”

“He’s here. He’s sleeping, too. In the other room. He’s okay.” Lucas frowned at me. “Hey. Strip.”

“What?” I wiped my eyes and laughed.

Lucas shook me by he shoulders and play-slapped my face a little bit. “Strip, dude! Now! Get those jeans off. You smell like piss and you’re messing up the blanket.”

“I guess I pissed myself when they killed me.” I got off the bed and removed first my shoes and socks and then peeled down the tight piss-soaked pants. I wasn’t wearing any underwear and my long limp prick hung a few inches beneath my still-damp ballsack, cockhead hidden in wet-wrinkled foreskin. I stripped off my t-shirt and used it to dry my junk. Lucas staring at me made me while I did this made me stiffen a bit even though I still felt pretty freaked out from what I’d just been through. Lucas opening his fly and taking out his cock and jerking on it while he watched me strip made me get all the way hard.

“Let me suck on that fucker, boy,” Lucas said. “My mouth wants a dick now!”

“I can’t believe this, dude. I was just sentenced to death and executed for having gay sex. And now I want to do it again.”

“Gay sex isn’t illegal on _SeaQuest._ In fact, it’s expected.” Lucas leaned in and licked my lips, his tongue mopping over them and then slipping in between my teeth for a second. “The captain was cool with you bunking in here because I told him that I married you. That you’re my husband. So everyone on this boat knows I’m fucking you anyway.” He laughed and tugged on his dick. “Like any man does with his husband!”

“Married! Are you shitting me?” I pictured myself on our wedding night, me in a  rumpled and stained parody of a wedding dress, Lucas pulling up my skirt, his suit pants unzipped, trying to snake his cock into my pussy, telling me he’s gonna get me pregnant like a girl. “Why the fuck did you tell him _that?”_

“Cock now. Talk later.” Lucas knelt in front of me, his face to my crotch, clamped his hands around the back of my knees and slurped the head and first couple inches of my dick into his mouth. He sucked on me, hands working up and down the back of my knees and thighs and calves, and I started thrusting just a little bit and he held his head still and let his mouth become a cunt and I fucked it, my skin-sleeve rolling back and forth over my shroom-head, pushing drool out from his between his lips. He pressed a finger against my asshole and I moaned and gasped and I yelled out at him really loud _¡Lucas!_ and I lost my nut in his mouth and he kept sucking it, sucking on it, sucking it right the fuck out of me, swallowing it, swallowing all of it. “Knees, baby,” he said, standing up, pressing me down to my knees by my shoulders. He pulled his pants and briefs down his knees and squeezed his giant gnarly prick in both hands and jerked on it, drippy head leaking preek on my forehead until, after just like ten seconds, he jetted out, spunked in my eyes and on my nose and cheeks. “Hot, Kyler,” he said, gasping. “You’re pretty with my jizz on your face.” He pulled me back to my feet and kissed me for a a few seconds, licking some of his own juice from lips and chin. “There’s this new fucking drug, dude,” he said, wiping more of his slime off my face with both hands. “You ain’t gonna believe this shit.”

He went to his dresser and opened a drawer and came out with a clear zip bag of what looked like some kind of blue powder. He dumped a little bit of it onto a tablet screen on his desk and pulled me close. He cut the powder into lines with his ID card and stuck a short purple straw into his nose and inhaled some of it. “Oh _fuck_ , boy!” he said, eyes watering. “You gotta do this, too!”

“What is it?” I took the straw and did it before he answered. I didn’t really care. He’d tell me eventually. At first it just felt like a whack of coke, cold burn up my nose and a dribble of bitterness falling into the back of my throat, but then I felt a hot sweet fuck-burn pulse and lurch all the way down my naked body and somehow _grab_ my cock and clench my nuts like an invisible incubus hand. I was hard as fuck again already. So was Lucas.

“It’s called Erec-T,” Lucas said. “It’s from another Kyler Fey code-fork.”

“A _what?_ What the fuck does _that_ mean, Lucas?”

“An alternate universe or other-timeline version of you brought it in here. Into _our_ universe. Wes found it on the _Enterprise_ and replicated a shit-ton of it. You—or another you—invented it in some kind of universe where you evidently just fuck fags all day.”

I was so fucking horny again even though I’d just gotten off and cocksnotted in Lucas’s mouth a couple minutes earlier. “It’s going to make us shoot more goo, too. Like, we will have no choice in the matter. And, look: it makes our cocks bigger, too!”

At first I thought he was imagining that, but I looked at it and then felt it, grabbing my meat on both hands. It was maybe half again as thick as it normally is and a couple inches longer, too. So was his. And my nuts were starting to ache a little bit like I had been jacking off with porn for a couple hours but not letting myself cum.

For just a couple seconds I think I had a vision of this alternate _me_ who had created this drug: _a dude three times my age, a guy who was nearly fifty years old, but with a totally ripped body, seven feet tall and with a massive footlong steel-stiff dong, a hot DILFy fuck-machine surrounded by a harem of eight twinky twenty-year-old boys; he is super-powerful and his world quakes around his cock-awesomeness._

Lucas decided to get John. “Be right back,” he said and then five seconds later he was back, pulling sleepy John along behind him by one hand. The kid looked at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Kyler! Oh _fuck!_ I’m so glad you made it, too! I didn’t know what was up when I ended up here but you weren’t anywhere! And then I guess I feel asleep again right away. I dreamed about you.”

I pulled him close to me, hugged him against my naked chest and kissed his forehead. John is a weird thing: sometimes he looks a lot like Eddie Furlong and sometimes a lot like Nick Stahl. I am not sure which I like better. I told him once about this phenomenon but he doesn’t know who any of these actors are because we are not from the same timeline. “What happened to _you?”_ I wondered. “What did they do with you? They took _me_ to jail and executed me with poison gas.”

John described how his adoptive parents—the weird old religious people—took him into a shed and tied him up and honor-killed him. “They prayed over me for the salvation of my faggot soul and then came at me with two big fucking sling blades, but I don’t really remember anything after that. I guess they chopped me up with them.”

“Ugh!” Lucas pulled John toward the desk. “Please no more of this murder talk right now. It’s freaking me out. Here, boy: snort some of this shit,” Lucas pointed John toward the lines of Erec-T.”

“What is it? Coke?”

“No. Better. It makes you horny as fuck, and it will make your knob bigger too!” Lucas grinned at John, watched the kid snort the line. “Do another one. Then get those pants off so we can fuck you.”

“What _am_ I anyway,” John said, sniffling and wiping at his nose, “just a fucking hole for your dicks?”

“No,” Lucas said. “You’re _two_ holes for our dicks.” To me he said, “You take his ass. I’ll take his pretty mouth.”

We did a quick clumsy three-way on the bottom bunk, wrestling around with our bones in John’s wet holes until I busted out inside his chute and Lucas spurted his goo on John’s forehead and in his hair. I didn’t want to leave the kid with blueballs so I put him on his back and squatted over his big outsized prick, so stiff and fat with arousal it was almost purple, and sat myself down on it. Dude cried, like literal tears, while I was bounced on it for a minute and then he screamed and I felt really wet down there when his jizz squirted out and he pulled out of my ass.

“Oh hey fuck!” Lucas said. I rolled off John and pushed my face into his sweet sweaty armpit. Lucas pulled me up by my hair and showed me his phone. “Time to beam up, faggots. Wes is ready for us.”

 

**Wesley Crusher’s _Cannibal Ferox…_**

“It’s probably Mirror Universe Wes this time,” Lucas said.

“The fuck does _that_ mean?” John wondered.

“From an alternate universe than this one. He switches back and forth but seems to somehow hang on to memories from one universe to the next. Just play it cool if he seems like an asshole this time. Mirror Universe dudes are hardcore. They can’t be trusted really, but they fuck like champs.”

We materialized in a dimly lit room with a big window spanning one whole side of it. Beyond it we could see millions of stars. “Hey bitches,” said a voice. We turned around and saw Wesley Crusher sitting in a deep scoop of a chair at a low-slung table. He was shirtless and was smoking a cigarette, a few empty beer bottles sitting on the table next to his ash tray. “You been enjoying that sweet Kyler-fuck-drug? The Erec-T?” He hadn’t shaved in maybe two or three days. I wasn’t used to seeing him scruffy. Maybe this was normal for Mirror Universe Wes. I thought it was pretty sexy and I imagined licking his jaw. His hair was a gelled tangle rising high over his brow.

“Fuck yes!” Lucas said, stepping toward Wes. “You got more up here, right? We didn’t think to bring my stash from _SeaQuest_.”

“Of course I do. I can make plenty more of it, too.” He stood and walked over to what may have been a dresser, recessed into a wall beneath a mirror, and he touched a lighted square and a drawer slid open. His shiny gold glittery capris pants were fucking tight, and I could see every bit of his thick prick and swollen nuts through the fabric. “We’ll do some more later, but first let’s just pound a couple beers or shots and do some regular coke. Before we fuck, we gotta go see my movie!”

He said that somewhere in the bottom deck of the enormous starship there was a secret film screening—only special people in-the-know invited—and that they were showing _Cannibal Ferox._ I knew that this was a shitty Italian cannibal movie from decades ago—or I guess centuries ago from Wes’s time POV—known for a scene with a chick getting hooks run through her tits and a dude getting the top of his head taken off and his brain eaten.

But it turned out that what we were really to see was Wes’s _remake_ of _Cannibal Ferox_ —starring himself—that he somehow made using the ship’s computer and some CGI actors. He had reimagined it as a splatterpunk fagsploitation epic. It was super-gory but he shot it in black and white which reduced the effect of the gore somewhat while also somehow making it creepier. I was so drunk and high during it that I don’t really remember it that well, but basically it went like this (I think):

Wes played a character named Jono who first murdered a cocaine dealer in a New York tenement for some reason and then somehow went to South America with a few other twinky dudes. One of the dudes had a theory that cannibals were an urban legend and he wanted to prove it by going into the back of beyond to find some kind of indigenous tribe that are supposed to be cannibals and then prove that they aren’t. This dumb and dubious plan eventually goes wholly sideways when Jono (Wes) gets all whacked out on cocaine and finds a hot moppy-haired half-naked native boy and then rapes the shit out of him and kills him with a knife and then sets fire to him. This pisses off the rest of tribe who end up hunting Jono and the rest of his people down. Jono dies when cannibals somehow run a big hook up his ass and then out through his cock and hang him upside down and naked from a tree and then cut holes in his skull and suck his brain out through wooden straws. The rest of his crew dies horribly, too, their lean pretty bodies destroyed in assorted gruesome ways. Lucas thinks Wes did a really great job of acting scared as fuck and in serious pain during the scene where he gets the hook in his ass, but Wes admits that it’s really just an animation made by the computer according his instructions. I think the whole thing is super-sick but I don’t say anything like that because everyone else who watched it seemed to really enjoy it and I don’t like being the douchebag who is always bagging on movies that people like.

 

**The prime fuck-path…**

“I’m gonna fuck you, Kyler,” says Wes when we get back to his quarters. He pulls my mouth to his and slides his tongue against mine and we kiss like that for a minute, sloppy beer-drunk drool rolling down our chins. “Did I ever tell you,” he says while we peel off our _Enterprise_ shirts, “that you are the prime fuck-path that generated this universe? Like your fucking spunk fathered the entire dimension?” I do not have any idea what he means by this. We do lines of Erec-T—Lucas and John, too. Memory blurs but I think we all got naked, snorted more Erec-T, slammed some tequila shots and smoked a couple cigs while Wes kept alternating between playing with his own cock and mine. I notice that Wes’s foreskin is really long and that I can tug it out like four inches past his piss-slit. At some point all four of us end up in his bed, me on my back with Wes on top of me, his giant pole balls-deep in my gut, and he’s panting over me with a cig hanging out of his wet mouth. John lays next to me taking Lucas hard, making little squeals every time Lucas jams him. Wes and Lucas call me and John their faggots and fuck-boys and nail us until they empty their nut-loads into our sockets. Then they suck us off—Wes on me and Lucas on John. John and I cum about the same time and John cries a little bit again like he did when he fucked me earlier in Lucas’s bunkbed. Then we drink and smoke some more. I remember this paragraph from a piece of fan fiction that someone wrote about me on a Usenet bulletin board on the internet a few years ago:

_Kyler couldn’t believe this fucking crazy-ass shit! Now that John Connor’s cock was finally fully and truly stiff for the first time since this four-way-fuck began, it made Kyler’s drippy foot-long dong look like almost small! And he was aiming at Kyler’s spread-wide boycunt with it. “Holy fuck, dude!” Kyler yelled, his asshole clenching, still oozing out Lucas’s massive nut-load. “I don’t know if I can take that fuckin’ monster!” John Connor laughed, lit a cig, took a long drag and ashed it off right on his pulsing shiny fist-thick dickhead. “Too bad, Kyler! You’re taking every fucking inch of this thick fucker!”_

I recite this passage to the guys to the best of my memory and they think it is super-funny because of how much like real life it is.

 

**Slide sideways…**

“Why were you guys—” said Wes, “why were you two in that dank, weird Yoknapatawpha County universe anyway?”

“No fucking idea, dude,” John said.

“I mean it’s weird,” Wes said. “That’s an old TV show universe. Based on Faulkner novels. From the 1960s. It would be like if we all showed up on an episode of _Dune_ or something and were eating spice and riding sandworms and shit like that.”

“It’s got to do with _this_ kid,” said Lucas, pointing a bent thumb at John, “being somehow unstuck in time. That’s why I was looking for him in the first place because he was unwittingly warping the course of history and creating time paradoxes with the help of these killer androids from an alternate future where machines had taken over the Earth and slaughtered the human race. _So_ fucked up, dude.”

“I _know_ all that,” Wes said. “That’s how _I_ ended up on his case, too, remember? But the Yoknapatawpha thing makes _no_ sense. That’s literally a fictional universe from a  TV show. I don’t think it ever even existed before you guys ended up there.” I didn’t say anything. I think Wes suspected that I was avoiding this topic. He _knew_ it. He said, “What do you think about this, Kyler? Where did _you_ come from anyway?” He peered at me. So did Lucas and John.

“Guys,” I said and tried to smile. “What do you mean: where did I come from?” I laughed and lit another cig and drained my beer in one gulp.

“It seems like you have always been around somehow,” Wes said, “but when I think really hard about it, I can’t remember where I met you or how I know so much about you. What about you, Lucas?”

“Same,” he said. “It’s very strange. And I know that _we_ met _because_ of him somehow. First time I heard of this starship, Kyler was with me.” John didn’t say anything. I really hoped he would stay quiet. We were heading into a dangerous territory now. I could sense it but I couldn’t explain why. I considered suggesting that we fuck again to change the subject away from this. But I said, “I was chasing down John, too. Remember? I figured out something was wrong with the timeline and then you—Lucas—you and I met at the dock when _SeaQuest_ arrived at Argos-Bellona. We talked. Then somehow later we found Wes and then finally John.”

Wes smiled at me. “I tried to tell you before, but you were not listening.”

“Tell me what?” I was sure I did not want to hear it again.

_“This: you are the prime fuck-path that generated this universe. Your fucking spunk fathered the entire dimension.”_

_Damn it, Wes,_ I heard myself start to say, but then I felt myself slide sideways out of my body, out and out of it, and into another.

 

**Wake up!…**

I woke up on Earth sometime in the mid-1990s in what I recognized to be my bedroom. It was hot in there. The windows were open all the way, but it was July and hot and still and humid, and I smelled really sweaty but I did not feel as hung over as I probably should have, but that might still be on the way. It was the middle of the night, 2:17 am. I was naked and I felt my crotch and noticed that I must have shaved my pubes at some point. My bent-armed desk lamp was still on, cone of light hanging over my Xerox word processor, stacks of photocopied and mimeo’d zines next to it, stacks of paper that I’d printed drafts of stories onto, a few spiral notebooks, a tower of _Star Trek_ and _Dune_ and _Yoknapatawpha County_ videotapes. Despite the heat, my belly felt cool and damp and my deep navel dent was filled with sperm. John and Lucas and Wes were somewhere else, beyond a wall of wakefulness. I wondered when I’d see them again. I rolled onto my belly, wiping the cum into the rough dried medallion of it that had been forming on the sheet for months. I got up from the bed and sat down at my desk, bare ass on the seat of the wood stool. I lit a cig and turned on the word processor and opened the story I’d been working on earlier. It begins like a nightmare.


End file.
